


Black and White and Red All Over

by robyn_bird



Series: how a girl becomes a wolf [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, During Evil Queen | Regina Mills's First Dark Curse, Emma's starting to catch on that something is fishy, F/M, Pre-Relationship kinda, also featuring: Emma making an effort to be a good mom by not shitting all over henry's ideas, special guest star: Mr. Gold's first name, the curse manifesting as physical ailments, unhealthy relationship ideals by people who don't know better, unintentional introspection at inopportune moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robyn_bird/pseuds/robyn_bird
Summary: Henry's persistence of a curse starts worming into Emma's brain. Meanwhile, Gold shoots his shot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do I look like someone who outlines??  
Please read the other works (or at least the one before this)

Henry had been very clear about who was bad and who was good. He had supporting evidence, made his case over and over again, knew the book backwards and forwards, and could cite his sources like a practiced scholar. For a book of fairytales, Emma isn’t surprised by the black and white understanding from a ten year old. When he’d started drawing Emma in more and more he’d made her a list:

Emma was a little more resistant to the good vs. evil theory Henry was working with. She had an adult perspective on things and knew that things weren’t usually this clean cut, but to a child reading a book of fairytales it made sense (even if some of the fairytales don’t, Emma had done her research and these are of a much different sort than the ones that the colleges studied and historians preserved). 

She didn’t want to ruin Henry’s fantasy, his imagination was incredible and she’d hate to be the one who took that from him. But she was worried. It was eating up all his time, Mary had said she’d had to talk to him almost three times now about paying attention in class. 

“I’m just worried! I’m trying so hard to be someone responsible and there for him, but it’s all he wants to talk about,” Emma groans into her hands. Archie is smiling in the chair across from her couch, and Pongo’s tail is thumping against the floor as he watches them. “I don’t know how to marry the two. Do I be the wet blanket mother who kills his imagination or the friend who he loves but doesn’t respect? It’s like a constant guessing game from moment to moment.”

“One could argue that he already has one of the former,” Archie says carefully, smiling slightly behind his clipboard, and Emma huffs out a laugh. 

“Dr. Hopper, that is terribly unprofessional.” She reaches down to pet Pongo, and is rewarded with a head in her lap. 

“Regardless, of what Henry does or does not have, there is a good middle ground between the two. I know you’re having a hard time finding it,” he says quickly when Emma scowls at him, “but you’re still new at this. You aren’t his legal guardian, Emma, you have a little room for error. What I think you’re really struggling with is disappointing him. 

“I had this talk with Regina when she first adopted Henry: Parents are not perfect. And if you try to be, you’ll only make things worse. Henry is a good, smart kid, if you make a mistake and sincerely apologize, he’ll forgive you.” 

Emma hums and places her hand in her pocket, feeling the list that Henry had given her and imagining the words scribbled on it. She can’t imagine he would ever forgive Regina if she made a mistake, not after the way he’s categorized her. She feels a stab of guilt for widening the rift between them, but dammit did she make it so easy. She didn’t try to help at all, Emma wasn’t just going to leave her son in an unhappy home why couldn’t she just meet them halfway? It would so much easier if she wasn’t being purposefully antagonistic.

It makes sense why Henry labeled her the way he had. 

“Have you ever seen Pinocchio, doc?” 

Archie had in fact, seen the Disney movie. They speak for a little while on Henry’s fairytale theory, Emma explains how she’s concerned where the book came from and how it deviates from the originals. These stories were meant to teach lessons and to uphold culture and legends from around the world. They were separate things, and told for different reasons. 

Archie seems concerned by the time Emma leaves. She didn’t mean for that, but these sessions were for her to get things out and work through them, so she can’t feel too bad. 

Emma’s hand goes to the necklace at her throat, holds it in her hand and just feels the weight for a moment. It’s heavy and solid and real, and reminds her not to get too caught up in her own head. She can only control so much. 

As per their routine now: Emma walks to Gold’s shop so that she might coax him into eating dinner and taking a break. She wasn’t quite sure what he did locked away in there all day, but it was always consuming and he could disappear into his work for hours, ignoring most anything else. There were never really any customers, which explains why he had to go into real estate, _and_ has a law practice (which he didn’t really truly practice but used as a way to give his threats some substance that isn’t to say he _couldn’t_ but- but now she’s rationalizing it to herself on the sidewalk outside his shop). 

Emma’s hand is just on the doorknob when she pauses, she remembers Henry’s list in her pocket and where he had firmly placed Mr. Gold. She had found it a little hard to believe that all this turmoil Henry believed in came from just three people when there were so many others here but he had quickly explained to her the rules and regulations of being Good or Bad. 

Heroes have a moral code that they can’t break, while the Villains are like to do anything without warning or any consideration to the people around them. It was a lot like the black and white good vs evil of cartoons, and Emma sees where it might be a connection. 

“Okay,” Emma had said, “so then how did Snow White and Prince Charming defeat the Evil Queen in the first place?”

“They had fairy dust!” Henry had proclaimed happily and showed her the page where Snow White tricked the Evil Queen. Emma can admit that the illustrations do look similar to the people here. 

“But isn’t that technically lying?” She had asked around a french fry and pointed at the page with the next one on the way to her mouth. “It’s like showing up to a knife fight with a gun.” 

“But they didn’t have bad intentions so it wasn’t a really evil thing. The Evil Queen wouldn’t have played fair anyway.” 

“Okay,” Emma thinks about this, “so it’s okay as long as their intentions are good?” She looked a little doubtful when Henry nodded vigorously. 

“There are still some things that aren’t okay like murder or ripping someone’s heart out.” 

“Which is also murder,” Emma smiled as she bit the french fry viciously. 

“Not always!” Henry flipped through the book madly, holding a page up to her and for a moment Emma was struck breathless at the sight of Graham looking back at her. “The Evil Queen took the Huntsman’s heart but he was still alive! So he could do her bidding!” Henry exclaimed and Emma made a soft sound, still looking at the picture and afraid to blink first. 

_Don’t be ridiculous,_ Emma had scolded herself, _he isn’t a fairytale character, he’s dead._

Emma excused herself to the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror for long enough that she started not to feel real anymore. But if she closed her eyes she would see Graham, and she _can’t_ do that again. Emma balled her fists at her side and forcibly shoved down the anxiety fueled adrenaline that prickled at her skin and told her to _leave. Leave far, leave fast, and don’t look back._

But it was different this time, she had a kid here this time. 

Emma had gone to Archie’s after taking Henry home and she had purged like she always does, and now she was standing in front of her second favorite place to purge. But she hesitated because Henry had gotten into her head. What if Gold _is_ a villain? (Of a different ilk than the upper class ones that don't pay taxes and eat the poor for breakfast. He was close, but not quite there yet.) What if he was using her to break the curse like Henry? But if he was a villain why would he want it broken? And if they were all cursed how would he know to look for her?

_Stop it, there is no curse, you’re an adult. You know better._ Emma scoffs then yanks the door open before she can question it again. 

Nicholas Gold looks up from behind the counter then smiles at her, Emma relaxes immediately. She breathes out, smiles back and is thankful for this small reprieve. She puts the piece of paper from her mind, shakes the ghost of Graham with a little more effort, and focuses on just walking. 

“You look like you’ve been put through the paces. Townsfolk particularly unruly today?” He asks, walking out from behind the counter. Everything is neatly put away and Emma thinks he might have been waiting for her. There’s a soft fluttering in her stomach at that thought, someone waiting for her. 

“Well, you know no one comes between Leroy and his bad attitude,” Emma shrugs, looping their arms together as they walk out of the shop, “I thought we could eat at Granny’s, I’m one meal away from eating there exclusively today. That’s got to be some kind of record, right?” 

“Yes, the quickest woman to clog her arteries in town, I believe they give you a medal. Posthumously of course.” Emma smiles widely, knocking into his shoulder as he locks the door behind them. “When I said that I like to cook I did not mean to threaten you with it, but perhaps I should have.” 

“Mr. Gold if I didn’t know better I’d say you were asking me on a proper date,” Emma says with an air, and he smiles as she pushes her hair over her shoulder. The necklace catches in the streetlights, on display like a warning to the right people. Not here, no, these people wouldn’t know what it meant, and wouldn’t ever sully themselves by _harming_ Emma, but down the road. When things get messy and he can’t keep an eye on her as well as he would like, those people would know. 

“That surprising, is it?” He asks, and Emma’s heart beats wildly, her eyes fog over slightly as she’s truly caught off guard. She can’t look at him, she’d burst into flames or throw up. Whichever was more likely. She scolds herself for being ridiculous again, says that she’s acting like a child in her head again, cycles through all the things she’s already told herself today but her filters are gone as well as all higher thinking. 

“Almost as surprising as me agreeing to it,” she says slowly, her tongue feels too big for her mouth. Gold smiles, the cold sense of relief gripping him and he’s more started by that than how quickly he bypassed boundaries and how inappropriate this all is. He shouldn’t be actually entertaining this, he should have focused on getting her to stay here for Henry, not him.

But he’d never have a good chance at this again. After the curse breaks her family would swarm and warn her against him. It was now or never. 

He stops on the sidewalk with her, pressing his hand against her cheek and tilting her head toward him. Emma’s stomach clenches in anticipation, that same rush of adrenaline from earlier coursing through her suddenly. She wants to rush toward him, wants to envelope herself in him where no one can reach her, where she can be safe and calm and free. 

Nicholas Gold kisses Emma Swan on an October evening on the sidewalk outside Granny’s Diner. There is no pomp or circumstance, there is no grand romantic gesture that brought this to a boil, he had scolded her eating her habits and then lead them into this moment casually, but with purpose. He kisses her and feels the same desire that had gripped him with Belle, the same want and need. Emma wasn’t willing to give that to him now, of course. Like Belle he’d have to win it, wear her down slowly. 

But Emma kisses him back, and a month ago, he couldn’t have said that she would for certain. It’s tender, all things considered, Emma grips his coat when she had turned into him and smiles for the sweetness of this. She had imagined him demanding and more like making a point, but she is happy to be wrong. Gold places his forehead to her’s when they pull apart, a brief and intimate gesture. Emma keeps her eyes closed and stays smiling until he draws back. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. Emma is surprised to hear the amount of emotion in his voice, but knows better than to draw attention to it. She squeezes his arm and looks at the diner behind them. She’s almost surprised not to see a whole host of faces pressed to the window, watching them, but doesn’t know where she got that idea from and so swallows it before it can fully form. 

“I think that deserves a greasy third meal from a reputable establishment,” she says lightly, drawing them back from whatever lines they’re quickly coming up on. 

“Well if reputable is required I know restaurant a few blocks down-“

“It’s too bad we’re already here!”

They sit across from each other and the chatter from dinner rush provides a simple and easy backdrop. Emma is relaxed again, and out of her own head, able to focus on the present and not dwell on fairytale characters or fantasy plots. She can have dinner with someone she admires and cares for, and perhaps it didn’t abate like she had hoped, but she hadn’t initiated it, simply rolled with the punches. It wasn’t like she went out looking for the worst person to start a relationship with and think “hm, yes, this is the one that will cause endless heartache and misery, perfect”. 

She can’t be certain that Gold would cause endless heartache and misery, but she’s confident that it won’t be easy or smooth sailing. If they did start a relationship, if they did find something more than meals and sweet kisses, Emma isn’t certain she wouldn’t try to sabotage it either. It’s unfair to put all the blame and pressure on him when she is more than culpable for some of her relationships dissolving. Things hadn’t been right since Neal, but this place _felt_ right. The cast, the backdrop, the plot, was all falling into place and Emma breathes easy when she isn’t overthinking things for once. 

The more time she spent here the more she felt she belonged and that had never happened before. Setting down roots didn’t seem like the terrifying monster that had always haunted her. Maybe she wouldn’t ever find Tallahassee, but she had found Storybrooke, and Henry, and now Nicholas Gold. 

It’s just as she’s relaxing into the thought of this, of staying here that she remembers Henry’s list in her pocket, crumpled and smudged. Emma rests her hand on the outside of her pocket, and blinks quickly at her water glass. 

“Nick,” she says, and his mouth twitches in a half smile.

“Hm?” He’s setting about his routine for eating at Granny’s, which is to stare at everything disdainfully for a few seconds, contemplate asking for a less sticky table, and then give up when he remembers the look of rage on the old woman’s face the first time he had made any such disparaging comment about the diner. 

“Would you consider yourself a villain?” Gold looks up at her almost startled, certainly not having expected that from her. Emma seems almost embarrassed, but stares at him with the same staunch resolve her father has (this time mingled with the darling blush of her mother’s). 

“Well, what an interesting question.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stranger comes to town, Emma contemplates her future, and deals are made.

Emma often found herself staring at Mary. Studying the slope of her nose, the size of her forehead, whether she had dimples, how broad her shoulders are, subtly measuring if they’re the same height or shoe size (straight, a little big, yes on her left cheek, narrow, Emma is taller, yes) . She can’t stop herself. She’s almost always comparing herself to Mary now, and dear God if she was even close to running into David Nolan Emma fled from the room like it was on fire. Henry was in her head, she couldn’t stop thinking about how these people could be her parents and she _did kind of look like David aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh-_

Emma is screaming at herself as she studies her own face in the mirror, pulling and pinching at skin as if it’ll change if she pulls just right. Emma pulls above her eyebrows to make them crawl up her face and puffs her cheeks out, hanging her head. She was losing her mind, her _parents_, honestly, she wasn’t that fucking desperate. 

But something must have clicked for her to keep coming back to this. 

_He’s dead._ Emma reminds herself again, the ghost of Graham just on the edge of her mind almost always. When she saw him in the storybook she had wanted to vomit. No wonder Henry thought they were all characters in it they all looked _exactly the same_. But just because they looked like illustrations doesn’t mean that her parents are the same age as her and Disney characters. 

Emma has Henry’s list taped to her mirror in her room, she looks at it every day. When she closes her eyes she sees his scribbles and his insistent smile when she started feeding into it. _Good fucking job, Emma, now you’ve made yourself crazy,_ she thinks as she walks back into her room, glancing at it again before forcing herself to focus on getting dressed. 

_“Would you consider yourself a villain?”_ She had asked Gold and immediately regretted it. What would he think of her, buying into this shit? 

“You’re an adult,” Emma mutters angrily, “you can believe whatever the hell you want.” She says firmly to her reflection, yanking her pajama shirt off. 

The cool metal from the necklace reminds her that it’s there. She looks at herself again, standing in her underwear and rose necklace pressed firm against her collarbone. She thinks of Gold’s amused smile after she had asked that and his response: “Perhaps in the same way a crocodile does.” She hadn’t asked for an explanation, but maybe she should have. 

Emma has just pulled herself out of her reverie when she hears a shattering sound downstairs. She calls to Mary to check, but there’s no response so Emma swears and quickly pulls some clothes on. 

Mary is leaning forward with her hands braced on the counter top, her eyes are squeezed shut tightly and she’s tapping her foot against the floor. There’s the remnants of a bowl on the floor next to her Emma notices as she walks toward her, but Mary throws her hand up and waves it.

“Can you-Lights,” she says, her voice strained. Emma moves slowly toward the light switch, which doesn’t do much with the morning sun, but Mary seems to relax. 

“You alright?” Emma asks quietly, hoping her voice isn’t grating or startling. Mary laughs, and stands up with her hands over her eyes. 

“I will be.” Mary rubs her eyes, then taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, it just came on so sudden, I’m not sure what happened.”

“It’s passed?” Emma sounds surprised, moving around the space slowly and hyperaware of her movements. She doesn’t want to make excess noise as she grabs Mary a glass of water. 

“Yes, it was the strangest thing. I was making breakfast and the next thing I know I’m-I feel like I’m in the woods. I could feel the wind on my face. And I was so _scared._ It was like something was chasing me.” Mary laughs a little, shaking her head, she takes the glass and looks at Emma. 

It feels like slow motion: Emma lurches forward to grab the glass before it can hit the ground, dumping the remaining water all over herself and bare feet. Mary is bending down, grabbing Emma’s arms and looking at her with such startling clarity Emma’s heart skips a beat as she’s faced with a suffocating split second of fear. She doesn’t know what it is but every fiber of her being is screaming at her that _this is wrong_ and the urge to run is making her hands shake.

Mary starts to say her name, but Emma’s ears are ringing as she looks back at the woman, she can’t hear anything beyond that. Mary is smiling wide enough to split her face in half and is nearly crying, but when Emma blinks both of them feel like they’ve come out of a fugue state. Mary steps back and blinks quickly, rubbing her eyes again. 

“I-I’m sorry, it’s- I haven’t been sleeping and-“

“No, it’s alright. Maybe you should call in sick today,” Emma suggests gently, setting the glass on the table and taking the towel Mary hands her. 

“I- Maybe I will.” Mary heaves a sigh, running her hand down her face. Emma smiles patiently, and promises to fix up her breakfast, needing to grab her own before leaving anyway. Mary smiles gratefully, then disappears behind the curtains to her bedroom. 

Emma asks if Mary wants anything from Granny’s as she hands over a plate of eggs, Mary had bundled herself in her blankets and looks to be fighting back another headache. 

“I’ll be okay, I promise,” Mary says, taking the plate and forcing herself to eat some. It was coming and going in waves that concerned her but she would rather tough it out than seek out medical advice from Whale right now. Besides, she volunteered there, she probably picked up some kind of medical knowledge and knew when enough is enough. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate,” Emma says carefully, unsure about leaving her alone at all. She’d never had a relationship like this she wasn’t sure if this was the correct response or if she should drop everything or what. But Mary assures her and sends her on her way, her hand on Emma’s wrist lingering for a moment like she doesn’t want to let go. 

* * *

Emma balances the cup of coffee from Granny’s with one hand, her phone in the other and then nearly drops both when she walks into the station. Regina smiles tightly at her and waves her fingers. She’s leaning casually against the desk, looking perfectly at home save for the grimace on her face. Emma hates how put together she always looks. 

“I remember this place being cleaner,” she says and Emma scoffs into her coffee. 

“To what do I owe the visit, Madame Mayor? Not still on about jewelry thieves are you?” Regina almost looks confused, and then covers her mouth as she smiles. She looks at Emma’s necklace and there’s a strange nervous glint in her eye that doesn’t sit well with Emma. 

“No, we have something a little more pressing than your tastes.” Emma rolls her eyes but counts her blessings. “I don’t know if you’ve managed to pull yourself away from your boyfriend long enough to notice our new visitor.” 

“Visitor? In Storybrooke? I thought you said that didn’t happen.” Emma narrows her eyes slightly, ignoring the jab for the bigger picture. 

“It doesn’t,” Regina says tightly, the pinched angry look of her telling Emma this isn’t ideal for either of them. Emma chews her lip, she could have overlooked something innocuous that Henry said, but all he really wanted to talk about was the storybook. “He only got in last night, nearly ran me down with that damn motorcycle. I believe it would be in both our interests if you looked into this.” 

“Maybe you should take this opportunity to drum up the tourism. I hear it’s good for the economy,” Emma says casually, leaning against her own desk as Regina straightens and looks at her angrily. Emma sips her coffee pointedly. 

“Henry already has his eye on this person, and I don’t know about you but I don’t want my son idolizing a vagabond. It’s bad enough he has _you-“_ Regina cuts herself off and pushes her hand to her eyes, tampering her anger before she can go off on Emma. “I’m _sorry, _I don’t like being in here.” Without Graham. Emma’s chest tightens and she taps the nearly empty cup against her lips as she contemplates Regina. They both knew Henry’s fearlessness would get him into trouble, and him chatting up strangers wasn’t something Emma wanted to hear about either. 

So if someone was going to chat up a stranger it looked like it was going to have to be her. 

“I could just have said boyfriend break his legs,” Emma muses, and Regina lets out a startled laugh. Emma knows what Gold is, knows he’s more likely to eliminate threats quietly and quickly and perhaps not to the letter of the law she was sworn to uphold, but she wasn’t against efficiency. 

“Ruthless, Ms. Swan, perhaps this new relationship is good for you.”

“I’m not actually going to do it,” Emma rolls her eyes, “I’ll talk to him, see if he’s just passing through and if we have a timeline. You know his name?” 

“You know, I didn’t stop to ask when he was speeding by at a hundred miles and hour. ‘Excuse me! Crazy motorcycle man my son is enamored with! What’s your name?’” Regina mocks, looking at Emma dryly. Emma is smiling widely, extremely taken with this side of Regina and sad that they had to bond over something like this. 

“Alright, I’ll let you know when I do. I’m taking Henry to Granny’s after school, maybe we can corner him.”

“Yes, give my son to the man who may or may not be a kidnapper,” Regina hisses, “let’s just hand him right over-“

“I’m not going to leave him alone!” 

“Forgive me for not having the upmost confidence in your childrearing abilities,” Regina scoffs, and Emma throws her hand up, then slam dunks her coffee into the trash can, making a point but trying to keep her temper to herself by not throwing the coffee in Regina’s face instead. 

“I know you hate to hear it but I do give a shit about our son. And he is _mine,”_ Emma snarls, “he came from _me._ I might not have legal rights right now but I am for damn sure going to do everything in my power to keep him safe and keep him happy.” 

Regina stares at her, her eyes flickering to the necklace again and unsettled by it like Gold probably hoped she would be. Not protection, he was right about that, Emma Swan didn’t need someone to protect her. She was a perfect analogy for the mother wolf motif.

“You are off to a spectacular start, Miss Swan,” Regina says tightly to the necklace, looks back up at Emma’s eyes briefly, and then leaves the station. The damn necklace wouldn’t protect her for shit, but it did make a pretty little warning sign around her neck for the influence she was garnering.

* * *

Emma feels a little nauseous as she reads over the last text, smiling slightly but sinking in her seat. How much did she really know about Gold? About any of them? Mary had given her her whole life’s story within a day of knowing Emma, but the others? Why didn’t Regina have extended family? Had she always been Mayor, she was young, what did she do before this? Where did she go to school? How did Gold come about owning the whole town? Was he really a bachelor this entire time, there was no one before Emma? 

There’s a sharp blooming pain behind her left eye and Emma cringes into the leather of her desk chair, holding her head and whimpering softly. The pain moves down to her jaw, and then neck, was this a heart attack? Was she having a stress induced stroke? Dear Lord-

“Ah, now, relax dearest.” There’s a cold hand on her neck and Emma breathes out through her nose heavily, leaning into the touch and trying to keep her nails from digging into her scalp more than they are. The hand rubs her neck, and she shudders, peeking through splayed fingers at Gold, who smiles and looks suitably worried. “Headache?” He whispers, Emma is reminded of her own tiptoeing this morning. 

“Yeah, I caught it from Mary,” she says. He chuckles, then steps away from her to dim the lights and help her adjust. “Hm, mood lighting,” she teases. But the lights aren’t dim enough for her to miss the way his eyes darken and nostrils flare, and for a moment Emma is afraid of him. 

She isn’t afraid of the implications, of him wanting her and that eventually they would have sex (at least she hopes so), she’s afraid of what she doesn’t know. Of all the variables that could go wrong. She’s afraid of Regina’s nervousness, of Mary’s worry, she’s afraid the town has a good reason for holding him at arms length. 

But instead of feeding into it, of maybe looking into it further, she does what she does best and ignores the hard stuff. She focuses on the flutter in her stomach when he was close, the tingly sensation that lingered on her neck from where he’d touched her, and the comfort at knowing nothing could hurt her or would even think to try with him around. 

“Have you seen our new visitor?” She asks, thinking of things that are threatening her. He walks back to her and leans against the desk, Emma’s hand finding his own and moving the chair so she’s leaning against him a bit, wanting to just be close. She doesn’t always understand the nagging need to be touching him, but it helps and her headache passes. Gold looks down at their hands, frowning as he thinks about her question. 

“I can’t say I have, would you like me to look into it?” He asks, like she’s not the sheriff, and smiles as she turns to hide her face in his stomach. Emma sighs then, her momentary happiness pushed aside to focus again on her job. 

“Maybe a little digging, but I’ll take care of it. Regina was in here earlier up in arms about it.” 

“Did she threaten you?” He frowns, he knows they can’t just stop seeing each other but he would prefer it. Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair again and looking up at him. 

“Isn’t that just how she talks now? I don’t think she knows how to communicate any way else. But you didn’t come here to talk about her,” Emma waves her hand, remembering Mary’s scolding and wondering where the fuck she was supposed to start. “Did you?” 

“No, in fact. I thought we’d change things up and I’d bring you lunch for once.” Emma’s eyes light up and she notices the bag on the table that had been set aside for her headache. She hadn't realized how hungry she actually is. 

She stands and takes a step toward it, but Gold grabs her wrist and pulls her back, holding her against him and taking her attention. He looks down at her, she’s just short enough her head comes to his nose, that look from earlier is back in his eyes. Emma’s stomach seizes, hyperaware of him again, she offhandedly wonders if that’s going to happen every time they touch. 

“I would like to request that you be careful around this stranger,” he says, his other hand holding the pendant and running his thumb over the imprint of the rose. He looks at it briefly before back at her, and Emma smiles. She places her hand on his cheek and kisses him, his grip on her and the pendant tightening. She feels lighter for a moment, feels like she’s a thousand miles away from everything. She could live in this moment, she decides, pressing against him a little harder to fully settle herself in it. 

Gold growls quietly, and moves his hands to hold her back, one slipping under her sweater, Emma shudders, and inadvertently breaks the kiss. She licks her lips as he kisses her jaw, massaging her side her skin jumps and while she enjoys the literal sparks that come with contact (like something out of a Nora Roberts novel she feels like such a cliche) she’s worried that this is something that will fade with time and damn them. That maybe things were too good. 

“Were I ten years younger and my knee not in this sorry state, I would lay you out over your desk, Emma Swan,” Gold says into her ear and she breathes out heavily, grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him insistently. Dammit, it wasn’t like she had been celibate since Neal, what was wrong with her? 

But the intoxication that comes with knowing someone wanted her? Cared enough to ask her to be safe, who thought about her and what she did. That was different, that was _wonderful._

What he had brought for lunch was homemade and while she was still eating at Granny’s everyday it was now interspersed between things with more vegetables and proteins and less carbs. It was almost healthy and Emma makes Henry order something with at least a piece of lettuce when they go to eat now. 

“You look happier,” Henry says suspiciously, Emma shrugs. She stirs the creamer into her coffee, the winter evenings settling into their bones now that it was almost November. The snow would start soon, she’s going to have to look into getting better tires for her car. “Are you seeing someone?” Henry asks, and Emma pauses, scowling at him. “That’s usually what it is on sitcoms,” he mimics her shrug and Emma sighs. Regina was probably too busy to date. 

“Yeah, kiddo-“ Emma doesn’t know how to she’s going to explain this to Henry, who firmly believes in the villainy of the world and how Gold fits into that. Luckily, she doesn’t have to. Henry sees him the same moment she does and perks up, his interest in his mother’s love life forgotten for a shiny new thing. 

“You’re the guy from this morning,” Henry says to grab his attention and Emma scoots over on her side of the booth, trying to make it subtle while Henry speaks to the stranger, “did you get your bike fixed?” No one can resist Henry’s wide-eyed innocence, not even rugged biker men who look like they stopped out of a GQ magazine. 

“Yeah, runs like a dream.” He looks at Emma and she smiles politely, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’re not the mom I scared this morning,” he says with a smirk and she looks him over a little deliberately. 

“Nope, that was the wicked adoptive mother.” Henry laughs into his arm.

“And that would make you…Cinderella?” He hazards a guess, Henry hides his face. “But I don’t remember a kid in that movie.”

“Makes it a little less creepy than her being jealous over a father,” Emma shrugs, and gestures him into their circle. “I’m Emma Swan,” she holds her hand out, and it’s a little awkward with them sitting next to each other. “You already know Henry sounds like.”

“August Booth,” he says and Emma nods. Her grip is impressive, and he winces slightly when it catches him off guard. 

“What brings you to Storybrooke, August?” She asks, under the guise of making genial conversation. 

“How do you know I haven’t been here this whole time?” He asks, stealing a french fry from the communal plate that Emma only lets them have one of now. 

“I would have recognized you,” Henry says easily, he has the same suspicious eyes of both his mothers. August is a bit delighted by it. 

“You know everyone in town? That’s impressive.” 

“You picked a hell of a time to visit, almost the holiday rush,” Emma says like she’s lived here for more than a few months (or that a place like this had a rush of any kind), “have family in the area?” 

“I do, but we’re estranged,” he says easily, enjoying how Emma frowns and the crease between her eyebrows deepens. “I was hoping to make amends in time for the holidays.” 

“Who’s your family?” Henry asks, looking eager and excited, and Emma sees where this is going. She steels herself for disappointment and starts looking for a quick exit for Henry, who is fidgeting in his excitement now. “Where are you from? How did you find them-“

“Henry,” Emma laughs, “one at a time, bud. Sorry, August, you don’t have to tell us your whole sordid family history.”

“Sordid, is it? You don’t even know what it is.” He smirks at her, and Emma shakes her head, smiling exasperated. 

“If it’s not sordid it’s boring and you don’t look like someone who’s boring,” she smiles. 

Emma knows she’s attractive, knows how to hold someone’s attention when she wants it (usually when she was hunting someone but it doesn’t really matter anymore), and when August looks at her and his eyes linger she feels a sense of accomplishment. The same as when you finally find a word that had been on the tip of your tongue or something you’ve been looking for for a long time. 

It is a decidedly different feeling than the one she has when Gold looks at her like this and she thinks, _Huh, that’s probably telling._

“Boring people don’t carry around suspicious boxes,” Henry adds, and August smiles as he looks at the boy, his eyes crinkling. 

“Is is suspicious? It’s just a box.” 

“Depends on what’s in the box,” Emma says casually, and Henry nods vigorously in agreement. 

“Could be anything. Like…another box.” August laughs and Emma snorts into her coffee, but Henry sticks by it. 

“Or a cat,” Emma narrows her eyes slightly, “or a bomb. Legally you have to tell me if it’s a bomb.” She says and he holds his hands up.

“I swear it is not. Nor is it a cat.”

“So it is another box!” Henry says triumphantly, and Emma smiles at him fondly. 

“No, sorry bud, not another box either. And I think that’s enough guessing for tonight.” 

“Probably a good call, we could go all night.” Emma hums, tapping her fingers against the table. She looks him in the eye and looks as if she’s deciding something. 

August feels winded at having her so close. She had grown into a beautiful woman, confident. He was drawn to her energy, always ha been, and he has never regretted leaving her more than right now. Sitting in a diner with her and Henry, he could have been doing this all this time. He could have been her protector and her salvation. Her brother, or her lover, Henry could be _his_ instead of Baelfire’s. 

August has to leave, right now. It’s suffocating being this close to her again, and he has _things to do._ Granted, those things involve Emma, but he can’t very well get her to believe in magic by just blurting out that it’s all real and Henry is right in the middle of the diner after just “meeting” her. 

“Oh, yikes, we gotta get you home,” Emma looks at her phone and then at Henry and he pouts a little but Emma frowns back at him. 

“Wicked adoptive mother awaits, I suppose,” August smirks and stands to let Emma out of the booth. 

“I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around, we eat here all the time.” Emma says graciously, handing Henry his jacket that he had given her when they sat down. 

“Well, you know I exist outside the diner as well,” August can’t help himself, “maybe I can buy you coffee sometime.” He wants to be near her, even if it’s nothing, even if they just talk about fuck all for two minutes on the way to work, it’s something. 

“Alright,” Emma smirks, “but only if you tell me what’s in the box.” 

“Ah,” August opens his mouth but then closes it and smiles at her, “hmm, you drive a hard bargain, Swan. I’ll have to think about it.” 

“You know my terms,” Emma laughs, and holds her hand out again to him. “It was good to meet you, August.” 

“You too, Sheriff.” 

Emma’s phone had vibrated, prompting her to look at the time and cut things a little earlier than normal but not enough to rouse Henry’s suspicions. Her hands are shaking slightly as she shoves them into her pockets after pulling Henry’s hood over his head when they duck out of the diner. A weight settles into her stomach and she knows she can’t put off this conversation anymore. 

Emma watches Henry head up to the house and waves cheerily at Regina, who sneers at her then slams the door closed. Emma sighs and leans back in her seat, pulling her phone out again to stare at the text from Gold, her heart constricting painfully before she takes a deep breath and settles again. 

It was necessary. Mary had said it and Emma knew it instinctually that this was different than previous relationships. If she didn’t want this to be serious, if she did. She knows he doesn’t do things by halves, and committing herself to something like this was not only terrifying but also set off all the warning signs she had that there would be no turning back until one of them committed a murder suicide. The only way out of this is death, which really does hold up well with the fairytale persona Gold is assigned-

Emma flinches almost violently, her hand spasming and phone falling from it. She puts her other hand over her mouth and then leans out of her car to vomit. The sudden blooming pain in her head making her nauseous, it recedes almost as soon as she’s expelled her dinner in Regina’s gutter. 

Emma groans and can only think about crawling into bed right now. But she knows if she doesn’t do this now she never will. Leaving things in this grey area wasn’t good for either of them.

_“We should talk.”_

_ “I’ll be over in a few minutes.” _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we may or may not deserve an M rating, and Emma's anxieties grow.

Emma had been to the house a handful of times, only inside it twice before however. The inside of the Victorian house is cluttered with leftovers he couldn’t fit in the shop or was still determining the value of. But there is a method to the madness, she’s told. And Emma admits that it’s a more refined chaos than perhaps it would be from a hoarder. There are labels so it’s not that bad, right? If there are labels? 

_But where does he get all of it?_ Her mind hisses as she walks around a hand-painted armoire and waist high ceramic giraffe. Hanging on the wall above the giraffe is a painting she’s certain she’s seen in a museum before. 

“How was dinner?” Gold asks, leading her into the house and the nearly immaculate living room where a fire was going and Emma sighs at the feeling of it, cutting to her core and warming her from the inside out. 

“Good,” Emma sheds her coat and lays it over the back of the couch, sitting with her legs crossed and looking easily at home, “we only had one plate of french fries to share.” She sounds so pleased he can’t help by smile.

“I’m sure Henry loved that.”

“He was not happy with me, no,” Emma sighs, and leans back, closing her eyes to drink in this last peaceful moment before something inevitably happens.

“And the visitor?” He asks almost too casually, Emma opens one eye to look at him. He’s sitting in a wingback chair by the fire, placed there purposely and next to a bookcase. The chair looks made for him, not too large to swallow him but not too small to not be imposing. 

“August Booth, he met Henry the night before,” Emma says a little warily, she offhandedly wonders how he knows but decides that scares her a little too much to think of seriously. “He says he has family here, and is visiting for the holidays.” Gold’s eyes narrow slightly, his posture suddenly tense. 

“Did he say who?” Booth? He can’t think of a Booth in the town, but that doesn’t mean much, many of the families were separated in someway. But how would this one escape their confines? How did he know to look here at all? 

“No, just that they’re estranged.” 

_Unless he came over before the curse was cast._

“How very interesting,” he mutters, tapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. He had never imagined his son might come to _him._ “And are you having dinner together again?” But this was not the time for that, that needed to be handled first, and then he could look into this development.

Emma huffs a little and frowns at him, unamused by this or the accusation. 

“We didn’t have dinner, he didn’t eat anything. We talked for about ten minutes, maybe.” She looks angry at him, and he has to stifle the urge to match it, instead sighing and rubbing his eyes in an attempt to cover it up. 

“I have been in a veritable hell trying to understand this between us, Emma, it may come across as some less than savory actions or emotions.” Emma sighs and moves toward the end of the couch closest to his chair, she folds her hands over each other and bites her lip. 

“I want-“ she starts and looks away, her hands clutching the other tightly, “I want this, you, whatever,” she says to the fire, “but I can’t if you don’t trust me.” 

Nicholas leans over and sets his hand on her’s, she looks at him and the ungodly pull he feels toward her is back. It tugs at him and encourages him to purge all his sins to her. He’s desperate to hold her, feel her against him and find his redemption in her embrace. 

“I was married once,” he says to her hands, and Emma watches him have a wide variety of emotion, the most prevalent among them sadness, “she was unhappy and slept with other people. I want-I want this to be different,” he laughs at himself and shakes his head, “obviously.” He curls his lip slightly, but Emma squeezes his hand and holds it proper, and he relaxes again. 

“I might not have the best track record,” Emma says quietly, “but I’ve never cheated on anyone, and I can’t abide by the people who do. You have me, Nick, but only if I have you too.”

“Yes,” he lifts her hand to his lips and Emma smiles, blushing slightly for the romanticism of this entire scene, “yes.” 

“Good,” Emma whispers. She stands, without letting go of his hand, and sets her knees between his leg and the arm of the chair, settling herself on his lap. She sets her hand on his cheek, and smiles, strokes just under his eye with her thumb then kisses him. 

Gold brings his free hand to the back of her head and tangles his hand in her hair, loose and long and beautiful. He kisses her like they hadn’t just made out that afternoon, like they’d been separated for months, like she was the great love of his life. Emma rocks her hips forward slightly, more in an effort to get closer to him than arouse him but it works out in her favor. Gold growls lowly from the back of his throat and laughter bubbles up from her’s, pulling her away slightly. 

She sets her forehead to his, and he closes his eyes, sighing softly. He’s more relaxed than he ever remembers being, and it is in no small part to the girl unbuttoning his shirt. Gold sets his hands just under the waistband of her jeans, and Emma leans against his chest, smiling at him. His hands are cold against her skin, offset by the warm fire and butterflies in her stomach. 

“I want you,” she says like she’s sharing a secret and he groans before kissing her feverishly. Emma pushes up to her knees so she’s above him, and he really wastes no time in unbuttoning her jeans. Her hands on his chest curling so her nails scrape exposed skin and stands to pull her jeans off, maybe moving a little slower than usual, maybe making it a little more deliberate. 

“Darling, you’ll kill me,” he says with his hand over his mouth and Emma laughs as she takes her spot back, preening under the compliment. “I have a bedroom, you know.” Emma is more focused on untucking his shirt, though he is trying valiantly to distract her with kisses on her jaw and neck and collarbone, with his hand pushing her underwear aside. 

“Too far,” she says with authority and he laughs softly as she gasps and writhes against his hand. 

It must be the fireplace, Emma thinks as she sinks down onto him, and the rain that had started outside. It must be the dim lighting, and heightened emotions. Her nails try valiantly to claw into his back through his shirt as she holds him. Maybe it was the look August had given her at the diner, maybe it was the assurance that someone wanted her (it certainly wasn’t the numb feeling in her legs). 

But Emma feels well and truly settled, comfortable, and at home. Which is an odd thing to feel while getting fucked by your much older boyfriend, but she does and she _loves_ for a fierce and startling moment. 

“I’m afraid,” Nick says afterward, Emma leaning against his chest and legs thrown over the arm of the chair, his hand on her thigh and rubbing soft circles while she almost-but-not-quite dozes, “that this means I’m never letting you go.” Emma laughs and smiles and kisses his chin, but doesn’t say anything as they lapse into a contented silence.

* * *

  


_Gold is over her, thrusting into her, Emma turns her head into the arm next to her. She cries out and clutches him and he laughs softly, pausing to stroke her forehead, and pull the hair away from her face. He leans down to press his lips to her’s, not quiet kissing, muttering praises as she whines and closes her eyes, trying to get more more more-_

_ “Emma.”_

_ Her eyes fly open and she almost screams. Neal smiles down at her and she pushes him away from her, scrambling back up the bed and breathing quickly as she bites down on her hand over her mouth. _

_ “Emma?”_

_ Graham, who is dead and buried. Graham she had to watch die. Graham who she never even slept with. She tries to focus on his face, but it keeps flickering in and out, she wants to go to him and apologize, she’s sobbing into her hand. _

_ “Emma!”_

_ August moves toward her, cupping her face with his hands and smiling at her. He presses his forehead against her’s, and closes his eyes. He’s stroking her cheek with his thumb and chuckles before he kisses her chastely. _

_ “You know why I’m here, Emma.” _

* * *

_   
_

The gasp that tears out of her sounds deafening as she forces herself to wake up. Emma accidentally hits Gold as she tries to get out of bed. Tangling herself in the sheets in her mad dash, she almost trips but doesn’t quite so manages to take a handful of steps away from the bed to look at it in horror. As if she expects these men to just materialize in front of her and hold her accountable for her trauma. 

_How dare he-_ She starts to think, before her mind clears and she wakes up fully. She blinks furiously, confused and disoriented about how she had moved so quickly. 

“Emma?” Gold looks at her from the bed, half sitting up. Emma blinks quickly, pinches herself for good measure, then tries valiantly to relax. “Dearest,” he sighs, knowing well the tell-tale signs of nightmares. He holds his hand out to her, and the first step is hesitant, while she still expects the worst. But the rest come easily, and she settles back into bed as well as she can. His shirt she’s borrowing for pajamas rides up as he grabs her and moves her himself. Positioning her half on top of him and head against his shoulder, she huffs softly but latches on all the same. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No,” she grumbles, “no it’s-It’s okay now.” He hums, not fully convinced, but why would he be? He is a person capable of thought and Emma gave a terrible answer. 

“You’re safe,” Gold whispers slowly, dragging his fingertips over her back. “You’re safe.”

* * *

  


Mary had given her such a shit-eating grin when Emma had come home that morning, wrinkled yesterday clothes and hair yanked into a ponytail haphazardly. Emma hadn’t looked at her, had just kept her head down and gone upstairs quickly to change and freshen up before work. 

“So you worked it out,” Mary says casually over her coffee when Emma comes back down. She had contemplated hiding in the bathroom until Mary left but decided not to be such a coward. 

“I am a taken woman,” Emma says, making herself some cereal. She thinks briefly of yesterday and the moment she had with Mary in the kitchen. “How are you feeling?” 

“Fine, it’s odd I’m not used to migraines. I hope it was a one time thing.” 

“If it’s not you might have to suck it up and go talk to Whale.”

“I’d sooner die,” Mary says vehemently, looking Emma in the eye. “So you’re dating then,” Mary changes the subject, looking at Emma pointedly. “I have to admit that I didn’t think you would.”

“You didn’t?” Emma frowns, hand going unconsciously to the necklace. “Why not?”

“Well, it’s _Gold._ He’s probably the most intimidating person in town. I don’t exactly think of him first when I think of eligible bachelors.” Mary grimaces, looking almost sad at Emma. “But as long as you’re happy.” 

“I am. I think. We talked, kinda, so I’m not flying blind. You know he was married once?” Emma says casually, but Mary thinks there’s a forcefulness behind it meant to convince herself as much as Mary. By “talking kinda” she imagines Emma said the bare minimum, but she can’t assume the worst. Even if it was easy to do. 

“Look at us, both after married men,” Mary teases, and Emma scoffs. She jabs her spoon in Mary’s direction as she sits across from her at the table.

“Mine’s divorced. And how’s that coming along?” Emma looks at her pointedly, but Mary waves it away as if it’s something actually in front of her face. 

“He’s working on it. They were married for a long time, it’ll take some time.”

“She didn’t even know he was in a coma, Mary.”

Emma was unsettled by this. Kathryn and David Nolan. They were a cookie cutter couple on the outside, perfect, blonde, a white picket fence and dog. The only thing missing was two and a half kids. It was a little too Stepford for her. But that wasn’t the part that unsettled her: How could Kathryn live in the same small town this whole time and not realize her husband was in the hospital? Didn’t she report him missing? Wouldn’t they have realized it was him? It was a small town, and they would have looked in the closest towns as well. Was there a search party? Did Graham look? Was there a file? Emma makes a note to look for a police report for a missing person when she gets into the office. 

A wave of vertigo washes over her suddenly, Emma drops her spoon and puts her hand over her eyes, leaning back in her chair and breathing slowly. She can feel the world moving and she thinks she’s falling but _knows _she isn’t. She clutches the table anyway and reminds herself over and over that nothing is moving, that she is still sitting and Mary is talking to her but she tunes it out for the moment. 

It passes, Emma sighs a little in frustration but smiles tightly for Mary’s sake when she looks nervously at her. 

“Alright?” She whispers, her hand on Emma’s. 

“Yeah, just didn’t get much sleep last night.” Emma says suggestively and Mary scoffs, waving her away with a dismissive gesture. 

“Get out of my house.” 

Emma laughs as she pulls her jacket on and grabs her keys. She feels like she’s forgetting something but can’t place what it is. She pats herself down a few times on the way to the car but nothing is out of place. Was it a person? She was going to speak with someone at work? Emma goes through a mental list of the open cases she has but none of them strike a cord with her. It mustn’t have been that big of a deal then. 

* * *

  


Emma stops by the house on her patrol to see if she could ease the nagging feeling of leaving something behind. She had gone through all her lists at the station and done her routine almost a dozen times to see if that would jog her memory, but nothing came of it. She hopes it’ll be something at the Gold House. But the feeling doesn’t disappear, in fact it gets worse when she hears movement in the kitchen. She’s about to call out to Nick, but it's not the familiar thump of a cane that accompanies the easy footsteps downstairs. 

Emma is standing on the half-landing, August is in the entryway looking up at her and both of them are caught by surprise. 

"What are you doing here?” August asks slowly, Emma grimaces.

“What are _you?”_ She shoots back, arms crossed and rooting her stance. If she has to she can launch herself off of here onto him. 

“You, uh, remember that estranged family?” He shrugs lamely, and Emma scowls slightly. She shoves down the surprise at Gold having a son, and he must if August thought this was a good con, but she doubts sincerely August would be the child of someone like Nick. 

“_You’re_ Nick’s son?” She scoffs, and puts on airs of at least knowing that much. It’s something she’ll have to bring up tonight. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“You’re on-Excuse me?” August was going to ask how she knows his first name, but Jesus Christ this was worse. They’re scowling at each other and almost hoping that the other breaks first. 

“I don’t know what kind of long con you're planning but this is not the place to do it.” Emma says tightly. August clenches his jaw, he takes a half step toward the stairs and Emma doesn’t care what kind of body mass he has she will launch herself like a jungle cat at him if she has to. 

“What are you doing here?” August asks again, rubbing his eyes and looking like she’s the one intruding on _his_ life. 

“It doesn’t matter what I’m doing here,” Emma says tightly, “you’re at _least_ trespassing-“

“And you’re not?” August snaps, Emma rolls her eyes. She holds up her keys and looks unimpressed at him. August narrows his eyes slightly, his hands clenched to fists and trying to shove down the wild surge of anger at the insinuation of Emma having her own set of keys here. Surely she would have enough sense not to do this, or at least some sort of self preservation. 

“Emma, are you,” August laughs tightly, “are you _dating_ him?” 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business-“

“You don’t know what you’re getting into!” He snaps, glaring at her, unsurprised when she glares back and looks down at him from her position on the stairs. 

“You have ten seconds to leave before I arrest you.” 

“Emma, please, just listen-“

“Why? I don’t know you. You aren’t from here-“

“Yes! I am!” He snaps, running a hand down his face and looking distressed at his feet. He makes an agitated sound and Emma’s heart skips a beat as she reminds herself that she has a gun. Reminds herself that she can hold her own against a man if she has to but she doesn’t want to have too. “How many people have come into the town since you’ve been here? How many times have people left? I’m the only one, you know that’s not normal.” He insists and she purses her lips together. It wasn’t, but they were pretty far off the beaten path, she wouldn’t be surprised if no one knew Storybrooke was here. 

_Henry said if they try to leave they get hurt. The wolf, Ashley’s baby, her car breaking down, it’s a pattern. _Her mind screams at her, and she forcibly starts singing Build Me Up Buttercup in her head to get herself to stop thinking about that. 

“Every town is different. And we’re essentially in the middle of no where, it’s twenty miles to the fucking highway-“

“Stop rationalizing it!” August snaps angrily and Emma’s hand twitches again, she waits a beat to see if something is going to come of it, but he doesn’t move toward her at all. “This place isn’t normal, Emma, you _know_ that!” He insists.

“So you think we’re all fairytale characters like Henry is that it? Not that we just live in the backcountry?” She scoffs, rubbing her forehead and shaking her head. “Get out. I’m giving you a warning August, because I don’t want to deal with this right now. Get out.” 

“So you’re willing to overlook all the weird shit in this town because it’s convenient? Or because you’re scared?” He challenges, making no move to leave. Emma sneers at him, pulls her gun out and walks down the stairs toward him. August holds his hands up, moving backward quickly. He knows that Emma probably won’t shoot him, but it’s not something he’s eager to test. “You know I’m right-“

“I know that if I shoot you nothing will happen to me,” Emma says evenly, the nagging in the back of her head growing and aching and desperate to be listened too. “Get. Out. And stay the fuck away from my boys.” 

Emma stays still as he leaves the house, holds the gun a little longer and sets it down when she notices she’s shaking. Emma sits slowly, leaning against the wall and putting her head in her hands. She’s shaking so badly, she can’t stop, can’t focus on anything else. 

_Trying to leave town._

_ Graham dying for no reason._

_ Regina unsettled by a stranger appearing._

_ No one knowing anyone else or talking about where they came from._

_ There isn’t a big box store for nearly thirty miles of this place._

_ Why they fuck did people still use phone booths? _

_ IT’S NOT ON GOOGLE MAPS???????_

Emma wants to believe her son. She wants to give credit to his imagination and his beliefs, wants him to know that he isn’t crazy or ridiculous for believing in something no one else can prove. She wants him to know that he can rely on her for anything and that she would always be a forthright and steadfast presence in his life for him. That he can tell her all his ideas, but that she would still be able to keep him from flying too close to the sun. She wants to be his _mother. _

Emma stands up swiftly, rubbing her eyes and forcing herself to focus on the moment. Focus on the heavy weight of her jacket, the feeling of the bannister under her hand, and the biting chill of the air as she leaves the house and locks it. She drives to the school a little faster than usual, and waits until the day is done in the parking lot like a weirdo, but she’s Sheriff so it’s not commented on. 

Henry lights up when he sees her and she relaxes for the first time nearly all day. She smiles back, and feels a little choked up about it honestly. He’s such a good kid, so bright and fun and loving, and Regina did raise him well Emma can admit that. She hopes she doesn’t think she’s done. 

Emma drives them to the marina, practically empty as winter settles in. She leans over and hugs Henry, resting awkwardly over the console, she doesn’t care, she holds him and he hugs her back. He doesn’t say anything, because he’s smart and he knew as soon as he saw her it had been a difficult day. He climbs over the console to settle in her lap and Emma sighs, she kisses his forehead. The shaking has stopped.

“I love you kiddo,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry I left you. You deserve so much better than me,” she cries a little, unsettled at herself and the emotion that is suffocating her. “You know you can tell me anything right? No matter what it is, I’m here for you.” 

“I know,” he whispers, and she sucks in a shaky breath that sounds bad even to her. Emma kisses his head again and smiles at him. 

“Sorry, kiddo, it’s been a long day.” He shrugs, but doesn’t make to move away from her. They sit there for a little while in silence, her arms around him loosely, and Henry leaning against her chest. They watch the ocean, the soothing motions and crash of the waves easing her nerves a little more. Emma can feel her bones settling, the calm contentment that had come when she had finally accepted staying here, embraced the feeling of finding her people. Maybe that had been it, she thinks, maybe she loves something so much she’s afraid of ruining it. 

Maybe August was right. 

“Damn,” Emma whispers as her phone goes off and she has to adjust to reach it, Henry moves back to his own seat, laughing as he nearly bends himself in half. “What’s up, Ruby?”

“Kathryn Nolan is missing. David called saying she didn’t come home last night, he was inconsolable.”

“Good,” Emma mutters, scowling at the water and taking a minute of pleasure to imagine the distress on his face. She feels guilty about it immediately, and tells herself that karma will take care of him, she has a job to do. 

“Goo- _Emma._ I know you hate him but this is your job.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be right there. Is he still at the station?” 

“He’s at his home. I’m assuming I don’t have to tell you where that is.” Emma can feel Ruby roll her eyes, and Emma pulls her lips back over her teeth in the approximation of a smile, but far from actually being one. Henry shivers at the look about her, for a moment concerned that she is more like Regina than he first thought. 

“Nope. I’ll be there in a few, gotta drop Henry off first.” 

“Don’t make this worse,” Ruby stresses, and Emma hums as she hangs up. 

Henry gets out of the car a little quicker than usual, only looking back at her once as he runs up the steps to the house and closes the door. Regina isn’t there to glare at her since it’s the middle of the work day still. Emma is almost sorry. 

But that doesn’t last, because Regina is at the Nolan house. Emma sees her car before her person, and she stops out of sight still, staring at it. Her hands are clutching the steering wheel tight enough to hurt, and the spike of sudden anger, consuming and terrible. Emma is shaking again, scream singing in her head to keep her mind from wandering into those places that August had dredged up and her own self-doubt fueled. 

“Hey,” she calls Gold, and she’s noticing that she’s relying on him a lot more in these situations which can’t be good but not something she’s super eager to change right now. On the list of priorities, that one was pretty low. “I have to talk to Regina and David, and I’ll probably be super unprofessional so if I turn up missing it’s probably them.”

“My darling, there’s nothing Regina can do to hurt you.” Gold sounds amused. Emma relaxes almost immediately. She closes her eyes and sighs, nearly melting into the seat. “And David Nolan looks like he’d sooner shoot himself than hurt anyone. The man volunteers at an animal shelter for Gods sakes.” He snorts and Emma smiles. She takes a deep breath, grounds herself, then pulls up all the way in front of the house. They hang up, her nerves no longer eating her alive. 

David and Regina open the door before she can even make it halfway up the walk and they look like the picture perfect couple in a picture perfect life. 

Emma thinks that if her life was a movie, or she had a band that followed her around places, Kill Bill sirens would be playing right now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear (in which case I failed) what Emma forgot was that she wanted to check missing person records or if the hospital filed anything for a John Doe. Yes, this is because of the curse.


End file.
